Declare
by daisydol
Summary: The war is over and in his grief, Ron doesn't see the need to waste another second in telling Hermione how he feels. Written for the Romione Fluff Fest on Tumbler for the dialogue prompt, "The moon looks different today." Rated K for just a bit of language.


The grounds were deserted as Hermione stepped through the front doors and looked out over the remains of her beloved school.

Quiet. So quiet.

It was still too surreal to think that Voldemort had fallen. That the day had been spent dealing with the high price of a war so long in coming and so abruptly over.

She'd barely left Ron's side as he'd grieved with his family, making arrangements and plans to return to the burrow before finally falling into a fitful sleep on the couch in the common room with her tucked in beside him.

There'd been some raised eyebrows and some knowing smirks, but no one had said anything as she'd cuddled him close - relishing in the heat and smell of him.

Let them stare, she'd thought as she drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat, ignoring everyone around them.

They were just going to have to get used to seeing her by his side, because she had no intention of being anyplace else. Not anymore.

It had been nightfall by the time she'd woken, only to find that he'd disappeared. Fighting down panic, she began searching the usual places, sure he just needed some time to himself. She'd happily give him that. She'd give him the world, if that's what he needed.

She just had to see that he was alright first.

After checking the prefect's bath, the great hall and the kitchens, she'd made her way outside. Scanning the debris strewn lawns, she felt relief wash over her in waves when she spotted him down a little way from the entrance. His hands were in his pockets as he looked up at the moon.

She approached him quietly, unsure what his mood would be. All day he'd alternated between stricken tearfulness and furious silence. They'd barely spoken, there hadn't been a need, but she could count with five fingers how many times he'd stopped holding her hand in his. He'd seemed just as loathe to be apart from her as she was. She couldn't help that the thought of that set butterflies loose in her belly.

Drawing up beside him, he glanced over at her and she felt another wave of relief at the small, tired smile that graced his lips upon seeing her.

"Hey." His voice sounded raw and rough from exhaustion, grief and lack of use.

"Hi." Her voice was small and raspy too as she put her hands in her pockets, mimicking him. "I just wanted to see that you were alright. Would you like some time alone?"

He shook his head. "Not from you, if that's what you mean." She smiled softly and he continued, turning his face back to the night sky. "Just needed some air. You looked so peaceful, I didn't wanna wake you."

She mimicked him again, turning to stare at the bright crescent moon hanging in the sky - their silence utterly companionable. They'd always been able to just be when they were together.

She lost track of how long they stood like that before he finally spoke again, his deep voice floating quietly to her on the still night air. "The moon looks different today."

She lowered her eyebrows in confusion. "Different?"

He kept his eyes fixed to the sky. "It's a whole new world now, innit? When the moon was up yesterday, we were in the middle of hell. We didn't know if we'd live or die. Now -"

He turned his head to look at her and she looked back as he withdrew his hand from his pocket to gently take hers. "Now everything is still so fucked up. But, I can't help feeling relieved too." His deep voice grew thick with emotion. "Does that make me a monster?"

She turned to face him fully and he did the same, her hand still in his. "Of course not. Ron, it's normal to be happy to be alive. You've survived, it makes logical sense that-"

"It's not just that."

Reaching slowly out, he took her other hand until he was holding them both, his eyes focused intently down on them instead of looking into her face.

"I woke up yesterday with a very clear idea of the world. Remus and Tonks were alive. I had five brothers -" He took in a ragged breath after that statement and she felt her eyes prickle with tears. "Snape was a greasy slimeball murderer and Neville was hopeless."

Hermione chuckled tearfully and Ron looked up to finally meet her gaze, his blue eyes twinkling with unshed tears. "Yesterday you were my friend."

Hermione's eyebrows drew down. "I'm still your friend, Ron."

He brushed his thumbs across the knuckles on both of her hands, a shiver running up her arms at the tiny gesture, as his eyes bore directly into hers. "Just my friend?"

Her mouth fell open slightly with surprise. Was Ron really starting this conversation? Now? Not that she was upset - exactly the opposite. It was just, in the heat of the battle, she'd come to the crystal clear realization that if she wanted something to happen in their relationship she was going to have to be the one to instigate it.

So, she'd thrown caution to the wind and kissed him. She'd remember until her last breath how it felt when his arms had come around her to crush her to him, his lips meeting hers with equal hunger as he'd literally swept her off of her feet. He'd let out a small moan against her mouth that lit her on fire - she could hear it even now in her memory.

She knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that he felt something for her. That he wanted her too. She'd decided then that it was alright for her to take the lead. She'd be the one to nudge their relationship to the next level. She'd say and do what he couldn't.

But, then the battle had ended and left unspeakable tragedy in its wake. What she wanted, or what they wanted, would need to be clarified later. It wasn't the time to try and take it further until he'd worked through everything that had just befallen him and his family. She'd put what had grown between them aside.

Yet here, in the moonlight outside of Hogwarts, he was laying his cards on the table- to borrow the muggle expression. She'd vowed to wait, to be patient. But, the temptation to let him take up the lead she'd thought was her responsibility to take was too great. She wanted this too much. Wanted HIM too much.

"What would you like me to be?"

She'd said it so softly that he would have missed it had he not been so riveted to her face. A small smile touched his lips for a split second before his expression grew serious again and he took a tiny step forward, closing the slight distance between their bodies a bit.

"Mine."

Her breath caught as he took another tiny step. "I wanna do the gentlemanly thing here, Hermione. I wanna say that I'll do whatever you need. Be whatever you want. That I'll wait for the right amount of time to sort out all the shite we're gonna have to deal with now the war's done. But, people are dead. F-families are torn apart."

His voice cracked at the last bit and her eyes filled with tears again while she watched his do the same.

"We have a lot to be sad for. But, I can't help feeling like we're alive and it's a beautiful night, with a big bright moon and I get to stand under it with the woman I love."

She had stopped breathing, her face glued to his and her heart hanging on every word. He was looking at her with such obvious devotion that she felt her knees go weak.

Letting go of her hand, he brushed an errant curl tenderly away from her face, his voice a low murmur. "I don't wanna tiptoe around it anymore, Hermione. I wanna grab the good bits from this life without hesitating ever again. For me, those good bits start and end with you."

Her heart thundered in her chest as he took a final step, his body so close that she could feel the heat coming from him. When he spoke again, his voice was a raspy whisper as a single tear skittered down his cheek. "Is that mental?"

Dropping her hands at once, she threw herself at him, pulling him to her in a bone crushing hug. She felt his arms go tightly around her again, felt him bury his face in her hair as he took in a ragged breath against the onslaught of emotions she knew he was battling. She knew because she was battling them too.

"I love you, Hermione. I love you with all I've got."

His voice was a low, rough whisper against her hair and she clutched him tighter as a sob escaped her. In all of her years, she would have never, ever believed he'd be the one to say it first.

They held each other for a moment, grasping one another under the night sky. The promise of what could be just that much closer within their reach. When she spoke, it was with her face nuzzled against the hard contours of his chest. "I love you, Ron. I've loved you for so long now that I can't remember what it was like before I did."

His hands clutched her shirt into fists at her words and he squeezed her tighter, his voice a desperate groan against her head. "Say it again."

His naked longing made her shiver. How many times had she wished that he would say these things to her? Be so open and vulnerable with what he was really feeling?

Wishing she could stay in the safety of his strong arms forever, she held him even tighter. "I love you. I love you, I love you."

She pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes, the moon casting his face in shadows that only further enhanced the intensity of his clear, blue gaze. With the slightest brush of her nose against his, her words came out on a whisper against his lips. "I'll say it to you as often as you'll let me."

His eyes were filled with such love that it humbled her and his voice came out on a rough groan as he lifted a warm hand to cradle her face. "You'll never catch me stopping you."

He took her lips between his own with a desperate moan, the softness of it in no way diminishing its intensity. Gently, he slid the hand that had been on her cheek into her curls - cupping her head, his lips brushing hers eagerly and tenderly over and over again. His hand was so large that it covered almost the entire back of her scalp, and she heard herself moan. He took full advantage of her slightly opened lips and pressed his tongue languidly into her mouth, angling his head so he could taste her as thoroughly as he'd always dreamed of doing.

This kiss was so much more than the first. Hot and heated, their first kiss was filled with longing and need and desperation. A frenzied desire to show each other what was below the surface in case they didn't live to see things through.

This one was slow and deep, filled with years worth of desire and longing. Love and wanting. It consumed her with its slowness, allowing her to truly feel how soft and full his lips were, how his light stubble felt against her soft skin. His smell, his feel, the soft noises he made, surrounded her until she couldn't tell anymore where he ended and she began.

Dragging his mouth away from hers, he dropped his hands to wrap around her and buried his face where the curve of her neck met her shoulder. He started placing sweet kisses there that set her skin on fire. "I wanna spend the rest of my life with you."

She gasped at his murmured words, the passion in his voice, as he moved slowly up her neck - his kisses lighting fire in a path up to her ear. "Ermynee…sod playing it cool. I fucking need you."

She let her eyes flutter closed as something healed deep inside of her that she hadn't even realized was still wounded. She'd forgiven him his immature and thoughtless moments long ago, as he'd seemed to have forgiven hers. They were the actions of children. Now, the man in her arms was promising himself to her and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would do anything to keep her safe and happy and loved. As she would him. She had always trusted him with her life. Now, she knew that she could trust him with her love.

She ran her fingers lightly through his sunset colored hair and smiled. "No need to play it cool. There never was. I love you with every beat of my heart Ronald Weasley. I promise you, I always will."

Dragging his head up all the way, he met her eyes again. They were filled with love and, despite everything happening around them, peace.

Stepping back, he separated from her and held out a trembling hand in the darkness. "Come with me."

His eyes were on fire, all for her, and her knees threatened not to support her again. She slipped her hand in his and let him lead, her own need coupled with her faith and trust in him was so absolute that she'd follow him anywhere he wanted to take her. Without question.

Except, she had a fairly good idea of where they were headed as he led her up the front steps and toward the staircase to Gryffindor tower.

Someplace where they could be alone to discover and comfort each other behind thick, red curtains.


End file.
